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The Foot
So glad you all returned to my CASTLE for my NAUSEATINGLY-NEW ISSUE TWENTY-SIX OF CREEPS CASTLE, Kiddies heh-heh. I was just doing some PHYSICAL SCARE-A-PY, stretching out my FUNNY-BONE hee-hee! But, BILE I finish up, I hope you'll find this FIRST FESTERING-FABLE, TOE-RRIFIC! It was raining down hard in a graveyard in northern-Idaho, back in 1928. An old man was digging in a hole as fast as he could. It was in front of a gravestone with: "JAMES FOOPMAY 1906-1920" carved on it. The old man reached the casket in the grave, prying it open, and seeing a skeleton within it. He removed its brown dress-shoe and black sock, seeing a lot of decaying-flesh was still on the right-foot. The old man jerked and yanked it, until he pulled the thing off in his hands. The old man quickly fled in the thunderstorm. The following morning, it no longer was storming and the old man went into a home on a ranch. He sat down in the kitchen at the table. "Good morning, Evelyn my dear. Is that foot ready for Dinner today yet?" the old man asked an old lady, at the kitchen-counter. "Good morning, Benjamin dear, yes it will be" Evelyn replied, smiling over at him. "Good! I can taste it now!" Benjamin said, grinning away. Benjamin lit a cigar and smoked a for a bit. The foot of the skeleton was in a cooking-dish in the oven covered in alfredo-sauce. At noon, Benjamin sang, "Home On The Range" as he drank a bottle of gin, outside beside a fence on his ranch. Suddenly, the loud-sound of a pail crashing to the floor, was heard in the barn. He stopped singing and investigated. In the barn, Benjamin walked around the old, empty-stalls. "Must be mice. There have been no livestock in here for ten whole years by now" he muttered to himself. He saw the pail on the barn-foor, picking up the bucket. Boney-fingers moved out from next to one of the stalls, touching the one end of it. Old Benjamin noticed it and dropped the bucket at his feet. The rotting old skeleton from the dug-up grave came out of the stall, gazing up, at Benjamin with its decomposed-eye sockets, which eerily glowed-yellow. "I am James Foopmay. You stole my foot sir!!!" the zombie croaked through a skeletal-mouthful of mud, dirt and squirming-worms. "Keep away from me you dead thing you!!!!" Benjamin replied in shock and terror. The corpse hopped in its shoe, slowly, as Benjamin backed up, not taking his eyes off of it. He dropped his bottle of gin, smashing it and grabbed a pitch-fork, driving it directly into the skeleton's red-shirt. The zombie of James Foopmay groaned in his deep, but cracked-teenage-voice. The zombie yanked it out of itself, plunging the pitch-fork right into Benjamin's own chest. Old Benjamin wheezed, coughing and fell over dead at the skeleton's black, rotting-pant-legs. "Benjamin, the foot is ready. Dinnertime Sweetheart!" Evelyn called from the kitchen-doorway. The zombie hopped to the home, going into the kitchen. Old Evelyn had the foot in the cooking-dish on the counter-top, stirring the alfredo-sauce around it, when the old skeleton grasped her head from behind and shoved it down, onto its foot. The corpse held her head tigtly, with its boney-hand, as Evelyn shook, writhed and coughed, until she was dead. Her body slumped to the floor and the zombie clutched his foot. Five minutes later, James Foopmay's zombie wiggled his rotting-bones down, into his grave, an eerie-yellow-light shined with the hole, and the skeleton grabbed its decayed-foot from against another tombstone, crawling down, into his grave with it. Talk about PUTTING YOUR FOOT IN YOUR MOUTH eh, Kiddies? Old Benjamin and Evelyn would have made some GOOD MOLD-FASHIONED CANNIBAL'S SICKEN NOODLE SOUP with it too Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!